The dog days of summer are usually a hibernation period for teenagers. Typically, they can be found bunkered down in their homes, living off a steady diet of microwavable meals and Netflix episodes, cut off from reality and blissfully unaware of any responsibilities.

But, some teenagers in Leon County are spending their summers getting a reality check by stepping into a courtroom and deciding the fate of one of their peers.

“These things are real. It’s not like Judge Judy,” Omar Attari says. He’s an aspiring teen attorney. Attari and five other teen volunteers have chosen to spend their Tuesday night prosecuting a 13-year-old boy for criminal mischief in Teen Court.

Teen Court is a diversion program for juveniles who are arrested for misdemeanors or non-violent felonies. Instead of facing legal battles, or possibly jail time, and having a blemish on their record, every Tuesday night children between the ages of 13 and 17 are given an alternative punishment that is determined by a jury of children their age.

“The theory behind teen court is its other teens holding teens accountable,” program manager Jessica Pitts says. “It’s more of an impact if it’s your peers rather than an authority figure.”

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Teen Court defense team members Kayley Williams, left, and Malaak Daraldik, right, work with their team to create an argument for their defendant to present to the jury at the Leon County Traffic Courthouse.(Photo: Andrew Salinero/Democrat)

The alternative punishment comes in the shape of a verdict form, which includes community service hours and teen court jury duty. If the jury thinks it’s necessary, then the teen on trial may also have to perform an open court apology and write an apology letter to their victim.

On this Tuesday, the 13-year-old boy charged with criminal mischief is facing a maximum of 55 community service hours and 6 nights of jury duty with a possible open court apology.

All this because he accidentally got spray paint on a gym locker while helping his friend paint his sweater black, and not confessing to the crime to police for fear of getting his friend in trouble.

But, it’s a small price to pay compared to what he would have faced without the program. In this case, Pitts says the boy could have faced probation until the age of 19. Thanks to Teen Court, he can not only avoid probation, but have the charge expunged all together.

The teen attorneys who volunteer to prosecute and defend the children on trial understand this, and find the process to be an eye-opening experience.

“I kind of didn’t know people got in trouble for some of this stuff,” Lynthury Warren says.

She, along with Attari and the other attorneys, heard about the program like most teenagers in Leon County do, through school.

Teen Court visits civics classrooms throughout Leon County during the school year, teaching children about the courtroom process and hoping to recruit volunteers.

Naturally, most children do volunteer since community service hours are a graduation requirement. But as Warren says, many teens stick around after the initial reality check.

“Once you see all these cases you’re just like ‘They’re people. I could’ve been caught in that situation.’”

That empathy inspires teens like Warren and Attari to become attorneys.

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Attorney Trainer Nicole Pollock , center, works with the Teen Court defense team on their case at the Leon County Traffic Courthouse.(Photo: Andrew Salinero/Democrat)

Attorneys must be in high school, attend a certain number of teen court cases as jury, and go through a training process. Once accepted, the teens are assigned to the role of either defendant or prosecutor before a trial, and review the evidence in a conference room inside the Leon County Traffic Court.

After reviewing the evidence of the 13-year-old boy who spray painted his friend’s jacket, Attari and Warren’s prosecution team has decided to pursue the maximum punishment.

“It’s better to be harsh now and get community service hours instead of making the same mistake when you’re 18 and now you have to go to jail for it,” Warren says.

“If you look at people who are in jail now, they didn’t just wake up and commit a crime. It kind of starts around this age,” Ariel Payne says. She is on the same prosecution team.

Whether the boy receives the maximum is up to the dozens of teenagers who hang out in the gallery of the courtroom before the trial takes place. Dressed up in the required formal attire, these kids pack the room, hoping to be picked for the jury. Depending on the case, a maximum of 14 kids can be on the jury, which must include past teens who were on trial.

Even when the jury is selected there are still plenty of children leftover. They’ll still receive community service hours for showing up, but some are hoping the following Tuesday they’ll be able to work on a case. It’s a testament to the program’s growing popularity.

In 2016, out of the 211 jurors that volunteered, 34 became teen attorneys. As of July 3 2018, 283 teenagers have volunteered as jurors, and 43 have become attorneys.

"It's gotten so busy we had to get an online registration," Pitts says.

The growth correlates with juveniles who are being diverted to the program as well. 2016 saw 905 juvenile cases in Leon County, 64 of those went to teen court. 2018 does not have an official total of juvenile cases yet, but Teen Court has already received 43 cases and is on track to be the most the program has received in a year.

And with 85.7% of juveniles staying out of trouble after teen court in the last three years, it’s easy to see why the program has become so popular.

However, the reason every juvenile is not being sent to Teen Court is because Pitts and other diversion program heads take into account the juvenile's previous offenses, the context of the current offense, and the effectiveness of other available diversion programs.

"Someone with a petty theft and no drugs, that's gonna be a teen court. Someone that broke into a school and put shaving cream on — that's a teen court," Pitts says.

She attributes the growth to the two-way education process the program offers. Both the children on trial and jury are learning valuable life lessons from each other. Or, as Payne puts it:

“They are basically us. They go to the same schools some people have been to. I think it’s good we’re making the decisions ‘cause we relate the most to them.”

At the end of the trial, the 13-year-old boy received 45 hours of community service, 6 nights of jury duty, an open court apology, and a 500-word essay on honesty and responsibility.